


The Van

by KingOfShrapnel



Category: Fall Out Boy, The Youngblood Chronicles (Music Video)
Genre: Gen, Hurt!Andy, Hurt!Pete kinda, Hurt!everyone but Joe, hurt!patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfShrapnel/pseuds/KingOfShrapnel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on what was going on in the van during My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Van

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to start out by saying yesterday marks one week since I first saw YBC and I really don't know the band as well as most of you probably do. I haven't watched any interviews so I honestly have no idea what any of their speaking voices sound like, so if their speech patterns are wrong, I apologize. Pete seems like the kind of guy who swears a lot, so there's some of that.
> 
> EDIT: I've been informed the source I had looked up for the guys sizes was totally off, did not know how close they all were in height/size, so I've fixed that. (They're all so smol oh my gosh)

Awareness came slowly to Patrick. It was odd. He didn't really feel like he had been sleeping. But he couldn't remember anything past being strapped to the chair in that chapel, the Vixens pressing various electrodes to his body and turning on that God awful noise.

His whole body ached. Whatever the women had given him at the table had obviously worn off and his torso felt like it was on fire. The rope tying his elbows together in front of him made his chest burn, though it was slightly overpowered by the pain in his arm. The smell of seared flesh permeated the air around him.

He couldn't help but groan as he tried to shift into a more upright position. He thought it would help with the pain, but it just increased tenfold.

"Patrick?" A hoarse voice whispered in front and to the right of him.

"Andy?" his throat felt just as bad as the drummers voice sounded.

"Hey man. Welcome back."

Patrick cleared his throat. "Where did I go?" He tried to look around, but quickly identified the cloth sack over his head, blocking his vision.

"I have no idea, I've just been hearing you quietly growling for the past 20 minutes since we got thrown in here-" Andy's voice cut out as he started coughing.

"It was a little unnerving to be honest." A new voice came from Patrick's right.

"Joe?"

"Present." he answered, leaning slightly to his left to tap his shoulder against Patrick's. It was a gentle tap, but it still made him hiss as his chest was jostled. Joe quickly leaned away. "Shit, I'm sorry man. Are you ok?"

Patrick sat with his head hung, slowly clenching and unclenching his remaining hand. He took a second to compose himself, but his answer still sounded more like a groan than actual words. "Yep, fan-fucking-tastic."

Silence descended on the band as Patrick gradually got his breathing back under control.

"Where's Pete?" Patrick suddenly sat a little taller, or as tall as he could without distressing his chest again.

Joe sighed heavily. "Shit man, I don't know. I've only been able to hear the two of you."

"He's-" Andy started coughing again, the force of it making whatever they were all sitting in shake. Patrick and Joe could only wait for his fit to pass. "He's beside me I think." his voice sounded even worse now. "I got thrown in here first, and the last person was thrown on top of me. Since you two are over there I'm assuming this is Pete." he coughed again. "His heads on my thigh, but my hands are behind my back."

"Pete? Pete, can you hear me?"

Silence was the only reply to Patrick's voice. He kept repeating the bassist's name over and over and he stretched his hands as far forward as he could, hoping to grasp him. His hand met the cold metal floor they all sat on.

"Are we in the back of a truck?"

"Van, I think." Joe replied, shifting as he felt Patrick's hand touch his leg. His foot connected with something soft and a groan hummed through the enclosed space.

"Pete?" Patrick repeated again.

Andy could feel the small man's head rocking back and forth on his thigh as he groaned again. "Pete? Hey man, can you hear me?" It seemed like he did hear the redbearded man as he rocked his head one more time, coming to rest with his forehead pressed into Andy's abdomen. The sensation was peculiar to Andy, which caused his drug addled brain to find it hilarious and he started to giggle, which quickly turned into another coughing fit.

The sudden spasming of his abs managed to startle Pete into full wakefulness in an instant and he shot into an upright position. "What the fu-" nausea hit him like a truck and he flopped forward with his head between his knees, tied hands wrapping around the back of his neck.

"God, that bitch! Can we stop with the needles in the neck, it's kind of getting a little OLD!" he was almost screaming by the end. Andy and Patrick both envied how much use of his voice box he still possessed, both of their throats feeling like they had swallowed razor blades at some point. Who knows, with the drugs that had been pumping through their bodies, they might have, though Patrick suspected it was from too much screaming. He didn't want to think about why he had been screaming so much. He didn't really want to know why Andy would have been screaming either, and right now was not the time to ask anyways.

"Hey man, hey, calm down." Patrick tried to sound soothing, gently reaching out on the direction of the voice. Pete seemed to flinch back from him.

" 'Trick?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Are you.. Ok?"

"Little sore, but still alive." His hand found Pete's leg finally and heard a hiss from Pete.

"Dude, watch where you stick that thing."

"What? My hand?"

"No, the fucking hook, you just about stabbed me with it."

Patrick froze. "A hook? I have a fucking hook?"

"Uh, yeah. I may have.. Tried to give you a fighting chance. Bitch got me with a fucking blowgun as soon as I stuck it on." He sagged his head back down between his knees, trying to keep it from feeling like it was going to roll off his shoulders. Even without being able to see, he could feel the vertigo and it made him want to hurl.

Silence filled the van once again, asides from Andy's rasping breath and Pete's controlled breathing, trying to fight the nausea back.

"Patrick?" Joe asked tentatively. "You still with us?"

"Yep." Came the short reply. A million thoughts were running through his mind. His head had been so messed up by the drugs and pain it hadn't really occurred to him that he was never going to play guitar again, but the knowledge that he now had a hook where his hand should be hit him like a rock out of a slingshot and lodged in his brain. And on top of that, his voice was so destroyed he wasn't sure if he would ever sing again.

So pretty much he was fucked for being in a band. Even though this had been an ongoing nightmare for the past 16 hours for him, realization made his world crumble in an instant.

"Guys.." Andy coughed again "Does anybody else feel really hot?" and coughed again. "Or find it's getting harder to breathe?"

Around the sound of Andy's brutal coughing they could hear a faint crackling noise, kind of like.. A campfire? And he was right, it was getting really hot. Joe had to lean away from the wall as it heated up behind him.

"Guys, we need to get out of here now!"

"What the fuck wrong with these bitches, now they're trying to burn us alive?! Jesus! 'Trick, give me your hook." Pete demanded. Patrick leaned forward as far as he could and braced his elbows on the ground in front of him. "Ready."

Pete fumbled for the hook, almost stabbing himself several times as he tried to line up the rope with the pointy tip of the hand replacement. He almost cheered when he felt the rope fall away, but wound up coughing up the smoke he had just inhaled. He ripped the hood off his head trying to make it easier to breathe, but only made it easier for the smoke to reach his lungs.

He shuffled forward, finding the door handle and tumbled out of the door as soon as he pulled it. 'thank god they didn't lock it' he thought to himself as he inhaled as much clean air as he could before climbing to his feet and  turning back to the van.

Patrick was closest to the door on the right side with Joe beside him, but Andy looked like he had completely passed out by now so Pete chose to grab him first. He managed to get the rope off his hands, but it was clear the drummer wouldn't be moving on his own. The muscled man was not easy for Pete to carry, but grabbing him around the chest and pulling him across the floor seemed to work just fine. Unfortunately the awkward angle resulted in Andy being unceremoniously dropped from the van onto the grass below. On the plus side it jarred him awake and he managed to roll away, pulling off the sack and coughing the pollution out of his lungs, finally getting a gasp of fresh air.

Patrick was trying to sidle himself to the door, but not fast enough for Pete's taste, who wrapped his arms around the even smaller man's chest and pulled him the rest of the way. Patrick instantly started screaming, his cracking voice making it come out as a slight screeching. He managed to get his feet in front of him first and he half stood before pitching forward onto his knees, barely catching himself on his elbows before his nose hit the grass. The hood had slid back on his head, making it so he could see his lower arms braced on the ground in front of him and he got his first glimpse of the hook.

His mind slid back into the thoughts of how his days with the band were over as he heard Joe and Pete coughing and hitting the ground behind and beside him.

_Oh how the mighty fall._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated!


End file.
